Beth stepped into the kitchen and let out a sigh. The kids were at school. Her husband was off to work. Finally, she could catch her breath and relax a little. Grabbing a mug, she poured herself a cup of coffee, then slipped into a chair at the table. Closing her eyes, she let the stress of the morning flow from her.

“It’s only a matter of time, you know.”

Her eyelids cracked open as she peered around the kitchen. Not again. “Go away,” she muttered, closing her eyes once more.

“Not until you listen to us.”

With a sigh, Beth opened her eyes. “We’ve been down this road before; I’m not listening to you.”

There was a clatter next to the sink as one of the pots moved forward, its lid lifting as speech flowed from it. “All he does is treat you like a slave,” it told her. “You need to get rid of him.”

She shook her head. “I’m not doing that.”

“What? You’d rather spend your life at his beck and call?” the oven asked, opening its door.

Beth took another sip of her coffee, thinking over those words. “No. You know I don’t.”

“Then fix it,” the can opener said as it turned on. “Make him pay for it. Make him pay for everything.”

Setting down her mug, she stared at the appliances around her. “Phil doesn’t deserve to die. Is it really too much to expect me to run the household?”

“You tell us,” the coffee pot chimed in. “How do you feel when you’re waiting on him hand and foot?”

“I don’t like it,” she said, rubbing absently at her forehead.

“Exactly.”

“But that doesn’t mean he deserves to die.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” the toaster said flatly. “But you have to realize something, killing him is the only way you’ll be free.”

Beth stood up suddenly. “No. I won’t do it. I can’t.”

“You have to,” the fridge said. “You have to kill them all.”

“I don’t,” she told it firmly. “And I won’t. Do you hear me? I’m not killing my family.”